Will You Miss Me?
by Panuchartrain
Summary: A view into the thoughts and motivations of Anna and Mr. Bates. Timeline adjusted to suit my purposes, but fairly close to canon. This story is similar to stream of consciousness. Although there is some external dialogue, particularly in imagined scenes, it is mostly about internal thoughts and feelings.
1. Prologue

As he slumped over the small, foul bucket that served as a toilet in this hell hole, he began to wonder for the first time if it was all worth it. He couldn't possibly vomit anything else, surely it was all gone by now. He'd been at this for hours, days even, and since he hadn't eaten all day today, why did he keep retching?

The smell was horrid, but he had ceased to care quite some time ago. The headache and tremors were becoming too much to ignore, so he quit trying to hold himself up and flopped face down onto the hard floor. His cheek felt the roughness below it, like he was lying in mud. He wasn't too far off in his estimation. He was lying in a mixture of dust, mud, sand, and all those other things that hitched a ride on the bottoms of dirty boots. Adding the stuff that had splashed out of the bucket, well, it was a revolting mix. In fact, it was so obscene, he started to laugh. Really laugh. He laughed so deep and hard, his belly shook. He had to be amused, as feeling anything else would have driven him crazy. He couldn't believe he was in this situation. His laughter gave way to another coughing fit, which resulted in yet more heaving. He didn't have the energy or the will to lean over the bucket again, so he stayed where he had landed when he fell.

He had been without a drink for several days now, since they didn't let you drink in prison. Oh, he wanted one all right, wanted it very badly, and although he knew he couldn't get one, it didn't stop the wanting. He gingerly pushed himself up to roll over onto his back, grunting as the back of his head hit the floor. That probably wasn't the best idea, because now his hair had picked up all those things on the ground he didn't want to think too much about.

It started to get dark and cold in the cell, but he maintained only the smallest awareness of life going on round him. He heard the other prisoners moving about, coming and going, settling down for the night. His exhaustion began to overtake him, and letting out a deep breath, he closed his eyes. As he drifted off to sleep, he wondered if Vera knew what he was suffering through for her. No, he corrected himself, if she knew what he was suffering through because of what he did to her.

God, his knee was aching. He was stiff from lying there without moving for so long. Really though, his knee pain was nothing to the way his ribs were feeling now. In fact, they were hurting worse with every breath. He struggled to open his eyes. The best he could manage was to get one of them open part way, but what he saw made him close it tightly again.

"Okay, okay," he muttered to the guard who was kicking him in the ribs, "I'm getting up." He struggled into a sitting position, his hair and clothes peeling off the sticky floor. The guard quit kicking, but it felt as if he hadn't.

"C'mon, Bates. I haven't got all day," yelled the guard.

Bates painfully worked himself to his knees, and then stood up gingerly. He couldn't really make it all the way up, which left him a bit hunched over, but mostly upright. He was still shaking and nauseated, but managed not to sway too much.

"You don't have to kick me when I'm down," he muttered to the guard.

"If I kick you when you're down, you'll get up quicker," the guard answered.

The officer grinned at him. "Would you like a drink?" he asked.

"I'd love one," replied Bates, flashing his best smile.

The guard's grin faded. "You could make this easier, you know."

Bates's smile turned into a grimace. "Yeah, I know," he whispered, dropping his gaze to the floor.

The warder studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Get cleaned up," he said, as he turned and left the cell.

Bates sighed. Rib kicking aside, the guard, Officer Peters, was actually kind of a friend. They'd served in the war together and got along okay. In fact, Bates was actually a little happy to see him when he arrived a week or so ago. He wasn't all that happy anymore, because his situation was starting to sink in. He wasn't going anywhere for a while and certainly wasn't getting a drink any time soon.

Bates glanced up and took in his surroundings. He was far too unwell before now to even think about this new setting. There was a bunk bed, which he guessed meant he'd be getting a cellmate at some point. He didn't look forward to that; he was nothing if not private, and he knew he'd have to fight to keep it that way. Continuing his inspection, he saw the soiled bucket, a small desk, complete with chair, and that was it. The floor was filthy, as was he, when he thought about it. Looking at his prison outfit, he shuddered. Well, he'd looked worse before, and not too long ago. He guessed he probably smelled like he looked. He was having trouble taking this in; it was getting out of hand.

His leg about to give out, Bates stumbled over and fell down on the bunk. He hadn't noticed before how hard it was. He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. It was another bad idea, as his hair was matted and sticky, which got his fingers stuck in the mess. He ripped his fingers out, bringing a few hairs with them. That made him angry. It didn't make much sense, but he didn't care. He couldn't control his anger, and began punching the lump of cloth that served as his pillow. It wasn't good enough. He couldn't rid himself of his frustration.

He got up and limped to the wall, driving his fist into it as hard as possible, which wasn't really very hard considering his current condition. Still, it was enough to hurt, so now, in addition to his knee and ribs, his knuckles began to throb. Bates allowed himself to sink down along the wall to the grimy floor. He couldn't bear it. He started crying, not knowing why exactly, just that he was miserable.

The effect of the alcohol withdrawal wasn't really that bad anymore. Finally, after a week of sickness, he felt better in that respect. No, he was miserable because of where he was and the things he'd done to bring him here. He had begun crying really hard now and, fighting to catch his breath, dropped his head into his hands. He couldn't feel anything beyond his anguish, he tried, and just couldn't. There was nothing else.

He sat there for a couple of hours. He cried until he lost track of time, until the tears dried up and he couldn't do it anymore. The warders left him mostly alone. He didn't know why, but he'd been too sick to move all week, so he thought probably that was the reason. Officer Peters looked out for him a bit, snuck in a little food here and there, but he was glad the others left him alone for now.

Alone. He was alone in the cell, alone in his misery, alone in the world. Sure, he had a wife and a mother, but neither wanted anything to do with him. They'd both made that very clear. Well, he liked it that way, didn't he? If he were alone, he didn't disappoint anyone. No one looked down on him for drinking all night and sleeping in the gutter before dragging himself to the regiment in the morning. No one cared if he got into stupid fights, the reasons forgotten, or if he neglected his wife.

Well, no one cared except him. It showed itself in that tiny, little spark of guilt in the back of his mind that always provided a reminder at the worse possible instant that he'd failed. It was that spark that made him confess to his wife's crime, and it was that spark bothering him at the moment.

His head was really pounding now, but he had no way of shutting out the torturous thoughts. He wished again, for the thousandth time, that he had died on that field in Africa. He wished he had given up more than a knee, wished that he had given it all up. Realizing again he couldn't change those results, he forced his thoughts in a new direction.

Maybe things could be different. He was already a week away from his last drink. He was going to be here for a while, and maybe he could take the opportunity to get off it altogether. He shivered. The cold air, which invaded the cell and settled over him like a blanket, started to bite. Of course, he'd have to find another way to deal with the nightmares, but maybe it was possible.

Perhaps this was just the kind of thing he needed, he thought, absent-mindedly rubbing his knee. Maybe he could clean himself up, quit drinking, and quit being such an arse. He was already doing this for Vera, to repay what he'd done to her. He knew he truly belonged here instead of her, that it was his fault and he had to pay for it.

Yet, in a moment of perfect clarity, he saw a different life. Maybe he could get a couple of books somehow and try to find some peace. He would have to fight hard for it, physically and emotionally, but, he thought, perhaps he could do it. Long overdue for some tranquility, maybe this was his opportunity, something that would make this worth it.

* * *

A little more than a year into the two-year sentence, he received his first letter from Vera. He had exchanged letters with his mother, who had seemed to forgive him, but this was his first dispatch from his wife. She'd wanted to let him know she was coming for a visit.

He was encouraged, actually. Off drink for over a year now, he felt as good as he could within this type of environment. He had a mutual understanding with the guards and other prisoners alike that they would leave each other alone. He'd had to fight for his uneasy peace at first, but he prevailed, and now he kept his head down and in his books, where it belonged.

Although he was friendly enough with Officer Peters and a couple of other prisoners, he kept himself to himself and tried not to say too much about anything. He liked it that way and it seemed to suit more than when he was freer and angrier with his comments. Yeah, he was still angry, there was no denying that. He still had the nightmares too. However, convincing himself it was his penance to pay for the past, he willingly accepted the cost.

He looked forward to seeing Vera, keen on the idea of making a go of his marriage and making a new life. Maybe he wasn't bursting with love for her, but they were married, and he had spent a year working on his discipline. Perhaps they could grow to love each other, or at least develop a mutual respect.

He had wanted to put the past behind them, and tried to write to her before, but the letters always came back undelivered and unopened. She'd obviously moved on from their shared quarters, and his mother had answered all inquiries with the news that she had neither seen nor heard from Vera since his trial. But now she was coming to visit, and he was anxious to share plans for a new life with her.

As he shifted on the chair in the dingy visitor's room while waiting for Vera to arrive, he noticed the reunions taking place round him. Most of the prisoners, visited by their wives or children, looked happy enough. They leaned toward each other and several couples whispered loving words. Bates imagined what that would be like, happily exchanging pleasantries with his wife instead of the accusations and yelling they usually fell back on. Maybe, after he got out, they could get started working on a family. He knew Vera might not make the best mother, and he probably wouldn't make a great father, but he could get his mother to help. He could work hard at it, and become a family man, a hard-working benefit to society.

He noticed her coming in then, and the sight of her made his smile falter a bit. She didn't look good at all. He sighed, suspecting her appearance was down to him, and fell back a bit into his old insecurities. He jumped up, rattling the chair a bit, and smiled evenly at her. She didn't return his smile, in fact, she sneered instead. He sighed again, running his fingers through his hair. Well, what did he expect, really? They hadn't spoken in a year, she would surely be imagining the same man who was dragged away from her, drunk and shamed, by the authorities.

As she hobbled closer, he got a much better look at her. Her clothes were old, torn, and hanging off her. Her gait was unsteady, _drunk_, he thought, while taking in her pale complexion, her once beautiful hair, now stringy and dirty. It looked like she had painted her face a day or so before, but it had faded off over time, and she also smelled like she hadn't bathed since then. He knew what she had been doing. His face started to hurt at the effort of maintaining his pathetic smile. As she dropped into the chair across the table from him, he slowly sunk into his own seat.

"Hello, Vera," he managed, without sounding too disappointed.

"Hello, John," she spit back at him, her venom not disguised at all.

Any hopes at a normal life began fading rapidly. He still hung on, though, praying that when he got out he could help her clean up, as he had done.

"I'm glad you've come. I've been...," he started.

"Glad," she interrupted, snorting her displeasure. "You won't be glad when I've had my say," she growled out to him though gritted teeth.

He tried to hold on to his temper. He'd had an easier time doing just that over the last year, but then, Vera wasn't in here with him. All his good work would be undone if he didn't continue to control himself, so he said nothing. He merely raised his eyelids at her as a signal to continue uninterrupted.

She took the hint. "I want you to write to your mother and tell her to give me some money," she began, her voice surprisingly strong. "I've lost our lodging, I have no money, and you owe me." He sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, resolved to let her get it all out now.

"You can't deny me," she continued, "it's your fault I'm in this situation anyway." He knew it was true, couldn't deny what she was saying at least, still, he refrained from speaking. She began to squirm uncomfortably in her chair a little, put off a bit by his silence. He'd never before stayed silent for very long when she began berating him. Yes, he had a subdued disposition, but she could usually get a rise out of him fairly easily.

She looked at him now through suspicious eyes, "well, are you going to do it?"

He finally answered her, "yes, I agree your current situation is my fault. Yet, my mother lives on a fixed income; I can't ask her to give anything up to keep you in drink."

"Perhaps I can get you something another way." He tried to offer her a smile, but it came out as a scowl. He couldn't help it; she always brought out the worst in him. "It might take a little while though," he hurried to add. He was thinking maybe Officer Peters could help out in some fashion, even as he hated to ask, he'd rather owe Peters than Vera.

But, Vera didn't want to wait, didn't want to hear any argument. Her voice volume rose as she stood up and leaned toward him. "Do you know what I've had to do to eat? I've had to sell myself because of you," she was yelling now. The others had turned toward them to watch in shock. He looked round and noticed a couple of eyebrows raised in his direction; saw the sly smiles on the faces of those who wished him ill.

"How is that any different from before," he muttered out, clamping his jaw shut before anything else slipped.

Her eyes flashed angrily as she levelled her gaze at him. She dropped back down into her seat. Sighing, she went on more quietly, "I figured you wouldn't help me. I tried to be a good wife to you, but you refused everything I've ever offered you."

He almost snorted out loud. Only exerting the greatest discipline, did he hold back any sound. Still, his face registered his surprise. Everything she offered him? She never offered him anything; all she ever did was take from him.

He was beginning to have trouble controlling his temper. He thought he had fixed that flaw, but now found that he apparently had a limit. He was a little disappointed with the realization, but there it was. All he could do was strive to raise the level it took before he lost it completely. He'd work on that later, he promised himself.

She went on, "you have ruined my life, gotten yourself discharged and imprisoned. There is no one to take care of me. You can't even get me the money I need now. I'm leaving you, John. You won't see me here again. You won't ever see me again. I hate you."

She rose to leave, and it occurred to him he never got a chance to share his plans for the future with her. He didn't want to any more though. He knew he didn't love her, but at the same time knew he would always be married to her. He felt trapped, and not for the first time.

Still, he felt he had to say something. "Vera," he began, reaching out to her. She leapt back.

"Shut up. Just shut up," she hissed. "Let me tell you something, I am what you made me. We both know I was beautiful and happy when you married me. Look at me now. Look at what you have done to me. You've reduced me to a common whore. I've wasted my life on you. I am ruined because of you. I'll have my revenge. You are nothing." She glared at him as she turned to leave, and in all their time together, he had never seen her so full of hatred.

The problem was that he knew she was right. He knew with certainty that every single thing she said was true. He started to shut down, falling back into the despair that was his constant companion before he'd let himself hope for the future. The only way out was for one of them to die, and his luck had never been good enough for him to think it would be her. Hell, he was wishing again that it would be him.

She looked back at him over her shoulder on her way to the door, "you bastard," she yelled out, branding him in front of everyone watching.

That kind of thing never got through to bother him too much before, not while drunk. But now sober, he felt her words like a dagger thrust forcefully into him. All those times he looked at her through a drunken haze, he never really saw her. He was seeing her now, and it made him angry. _Vera as a mother_, what had he been thinking? Desperation for a change in his circumstances had obviously clouded his judgement.

He should have known. Families and children were for decent people, not people like him. Happiness should be left to those who didn't destroy other's lives. He felt so stupid for thinking of a normal life. He wasn't in any position to have anything good, anything that would bring pride or even satisfaction. He should have known already, but the truth now dawned clearly, he was a fool to hope. Well, she had crushed his hope, and he promised he'd never let himself wish for anything good ever again. He hardened his soul. He could still be a productive member of society, but in that moment, he made a conscious effort to bury every emotion he had ever felt. He would never destroy anyone else, he promised himself. John Bates erected the thickest walls he could muster and swore that nothing, and no one, would ever get through again. "Never," he spoke aloud, sealing his vow, as the gate closed on the fortress of his heart.


	2. Prologue cont,

He was getting out of prison next month. It had been a long and hard two years, but he had come out the other side intact. Better than that, actually. He'd come out in good shape. Even though the nightmares had never left for long and his knee appeared to be getting worse, mentally he was as strong as ever, as strong as he'd ever been.

Having finally realized he needed to let go of any illusions of having a good life, he had settled on the idea of at least trying for a decent one. After long ago learning to guard against sentiment, he was operating on a strictly rational level now.

Peters stood outside of the locked cell door, asking Bates what he planned to do when he got out. Bates didn't have an answer. The truth was he didn't really know what he was going to do. Go home to mam, he guessed. Vera had made good on her promise, disappearing on the wind, and he had given up any thoughts of her. He couldn't afford to think of her, it just hurt too much and interfered with his ability to stay away from emotion.

Peters was getting tired of waiting for an answer. "You remember anything from the war?" he inquired. _What a loaded question_, thought Bates, since he found it difficult to think much of anything else.

"What specifically about the war are you asking," Bates replied, finally looking directly at Peters.

"Our commander, Crawley, he was called, or Grantham now, I guess."

"Not likely I'd forget him, would I," remarked Bates, glancing down at his leg.

"Right," returned Peters, "so stupid of me."

"That's okay," Bates said dismissively, not wanting to invite the memories in, "why do you ask?"

"Well," Peters pushed on, "he's inherited now, the land and the title. I've heard through the servant's grapevine there was a small theft there, cufflinks, I think. Watson, the valet, took off with them. The family didn't want to bring any charges, no doubt to avoid the scandal, but it has left the Lord without a valet. Since you were his batman, I figured, well, you know...," Peters offered.

Bates laughed humourlessly. "Not likely he'd want an ex-con for a valet, would he?"

"You could write to him. Use my home address so he wouldn't know where you've been for the last two years," Peters remarked, looking him in the eye, the implication clear.

"My knee...," Bates trailed off, subconsciously reaching down to rub his injury. Could he manage it_, _he wondered.

Peters shrugged, whispering conspiratorially, he suggested, "It could be a fresh start, Bates."

_A fresh start_, Bates thought, he could get what he'd been wanting for a while now. Over the last two years he'd learned how to keep his head down, control his temper, avoid revealing anything, and to get on with his life. This could offer a way to continue that. He made a decision.

"Okay, Peters, I'll do it. And, thanks, I appreciate all you've done while I've been here. I know you had to be careful, what you've risked, and I can't thank you enough."

"I don't ever want to see you back in here," Peters told him.

"Nothing could induce me to ever return," swore Bates.

Peters smiled and walked off, knowing that he had helped give a fellow soldier a chance to get back on his feet.

* * *

When he'd stepped into the harsh sunlight outside the prison, he gave a cursory glance around for Vera, but didn't really expect to see her. Then, he briefly considered heading straight to the nearest pub. He dismissed the idea almost immediately, convinced he had put himself on the right path, but the pull of it was still there. He shook his head to rid himself of the notion, and turned in the opposite direction to go make amends with his mother. He had wondered how he would handle freedom, and was fairly encouraged he'd been able to hold out.

Relatively shortly thereafter, he received word that Grantham had accepted his petition, and he was on his way. Before departing, he'd sold everything he owned, except for a few books, using the money to outfit himself as befitted a gentleman's gentleman.

He was on the milk train to Downton. He knew he would arrive early, but he was anxious for something to do. Sitting around only brought dark thoughts. As he rode the train through the countryside, he reflected on the events that had brought him to this point. But, more importantly, he thought about what he would have to do to stay on that path.

The arrangements for his new post had taken longer than he had thought possible, so he'd had to move in with his mother for a bit. He spent a little time looking for Vera, but he knew he wouldn't find her. With nothing to do but wait, he made himself nervous that the delay was caused by Lord Grantham looking a little too hard into the intervening years between their time in Africa and now. He'd almost written off his chances, but things had worked out in his favour, and he was keen to get started. In the end, he guessed Grantham couldn't have looked into him very well, or he never would have been engaged. Whatever Grantham's reasons, Bates jumped at the chance to make his new life.

Bates turned his thoughts to Vera. He could remember a time when they were happy. He'd had a difficult childhood, but she made him forget all that. They had fallen in love fairly quickly, and he was sure that was it for him, he would never want anyone else. The first years of their marriage had passed in bliss. She surprised him on their wedding night when he discovered he wasn't the first, or even the second, but he kept his thoughts to himself, not wanting to hurt her. Even though she knew more about the marriage bed than he, he refused to let it bother him. He was in love, he thought, and she could do no wrong.

Yet, it wasn't long before the cracks began to appear. It started slowly when he began to notice he was irritating her in small ways. Then, she started disappearing for whole evenings at a time. She quit wanting him, letting him know in painful and humiliating ways. He didn't understand how it could all go wrong so quickly. He heard the neighbourhood gossip, and got in a number of fights over it. That was fine with him; it gave him an outlet for his anger. So, when he had the opportunity to go to war, he thought it was an excellent chance to get away and focus his anger more positively. If only he'd known just how it would teach him to focus his anger, he would have run in the opposite direction. But, by then it was too late, he had learned to lean on anger as a friend, and there would be no turning back.

Next, Bates considered how he would move forward. He knew now that he had acted too quickly when he first met Vera. He had to forgive himself for that and let it go, because as a young man he acted impulsively, as young men were wont to do. Well, he was obviously no longer young, so he resolved to take his time in future in contemplating all matters requiring an important decision. He knew drinking and carousing had led him wrong, so he'd also have to avoid that in future as well. Being too free with his comments was another of his faults; he was going to have to continue to control his tongue and his temper, as he'd learned to do over the past two years. Lastly, he had acted far too dishonourably in the past. He'd allowed those close to him to be hurt by his roguish behaviour. Well, no more. He determined to follow through on his pledge to be a better man, to avoid those entanglements which would cause him to behave disgracefully. He knew it wouldn't be easy, quite the reverse, actually. It was going to be the hardest thing he'd ever done, but he was going to do it if it killed him.

Keep his head down, do his job. How could that lead him wrong?


	3. Chapter 1

He was nervous, he admitted to himself as he stood at the back door. He figured the best thing for it was to hurry and find something to do. He'd been knocking for a while now, but no one would come. Realizing he wanted to make a good first impression, he resisted the urge to run his fingers though his hair. It wouldn't do to look like a ruffian. Finally, he could stand it no more and just pushed in. He managed the small set of stairs easily, and then paused in the entryway, trying to figure out what to do next. There didn't seem to be anyone around. He moved on down the hallway until at long last he heard voices, which caused him to freeze.

_Well, here we go_, he thought anxiously, and steeled himself for what was to come.

Meeting the people with whom he would be working made him begin to wonder if the cane was a good idea. He had picked it up when he outfitted himself, but now doubted his choice. It did help him to get around, there was no arguing with that, but every single person he met stared, or at least glanced, at it. Interestingly, the cane kept everyone's attention so focused on it; they didn't really examine him beyond it. While he figured they might question it, they seemed to be looking through him, so focused were they on the actual stick. As he stood there while they scrutinized him, he laughed a little internally, thinking perhaps it was a better idea than he had initially thought. Perhaps their inspections, and seeming obsessions with it, would keep them from actually looking too closely at him, which suited him just fine.

On the other hand, he was getting a little tired of almost every single one of them making an issue of the thing. Yeah, it helped him, no question, but Lord, they acted like he was missing a limb! It didn't work as well as he would have liked, but at least his leg was still there, and he really wished they would quit commenting on it. He lost track of how many times he had to defend himself against it. When the latest person, the cook, made a comment, he finally let his frustration show. He would have to watch that; it wouldn't do to go losing his temper the first day, but he didn't know how many times he was going to have to tell them before they accepted it.

Anna, though not surprised, was a little embarrassed by the reception they were giving the new man. Yes, the stick would more than likely be a problem, but that was no reason to be rude. She could feel his discomfort at the response he was getting, and tried to alleviate it somewhat by welcoming him personally. Typically of her, O'Brien wouldn't even shake his hand.

_Well, at least I can control my own behaviour_, thought Anna, as she followed them through the door in search of Mr. Carson.

For the most part, he could tell he was unwelcome. Well, except by one, she looked him in the eye, smiled and appeared to mean it. But, most of them expressed mild concern, and he could easily read the more serious trepidation on a couple of them. He briefly wondered if it was more than just the cane. He had just walked out of a two-year prison stay; he knew when someone wished him ill. This wasn't even close to the first time he had gotten reactions like these, and he knew he would have to keep a wary eye them. Yes, the younger one who smiled at him appeared nice, but he would have to watch out for all of them.

Anna hated it when everyone ganged up on someone new. Although it was rare, it had happened before, so she felt it her duty to say something. She didn't know this man; she only knew he deserved a chance, so she spoke up. She earned a look from O'Brien for her efforts, well, that wouldn't be the first, or the last, for that matter. She felt bad for him, oh, not for the cane, it was nothing like that. It was more the reception everyone gave him that bothered her, so it pleased her to earn a smile from him in return. Well, it was more of a smirk really, but it was nice to see, leading her to decide to double her efforts to be nice and welcome him. What O'Brien said may be true, it might not work out, but while he was here, she resolved to do everything she could to make him comfortable. It was the least she could do.

He knew the house would be big, if he remembered the comments Grantham made all those years ago, but this was ridiculous. The stairs wore him out, there was no denying it. He didn't think he would make it, finding himself out of sorts by the time he saw his room. Next, he had to go back down to Grantham's dressing room for the tour. He was definitely going to have to keep the cane, he thought as he followed Thomas through the house. He'd never make all those stairs every day without it, so he didn't really have a choice. He noticed he leaned on it even more than he thought he would when he bought it. There were probably a hundred stairs between the servant's hall and his attic room. He knew he would have to go all the way back down for lunch, only to go back up later. This would be an adjustment, he considered as he began the long trek down to lunch, but he resolved that he would do whatever necessary to stay.

At lunch in the servant's hall, they just wouldn't quit looking at him, and really, the butler was insulting him that little speech whether he realized it or not. Coupled with the welcome he had received earlier, he felt himself letting his frustration show again. As a result, he privately enjoyed his initial reunion with Grantham, probably more than he should have, even if it was just to get back at them a little. Bates knew his business, and he figured he could learn what he didn't know fairly easily. He could see the confusion on their faces, so couldn't resist commenting on it. However, he guessed their reluctance was understandable, so he would have to hold down his annoyance, he mused as he retook his seat. Still, he would have to remember the looks on their faces, yes; he was enjoying that way too much.

Letting let out a deep sigh, he considered his situation; this was going to be difficult, no doubt. The walking he'd had to do in prison was nothing like enough to condition him to move about this house in the way he would have to do. He would have to rise to the challenge. So, when he spoke privately with the earl, he was reassuring himself as much as he was Grantham when he insisted he wouldn't have a problem. He had to stay, he knew, since he had nowhere else to go.

_Honestly_, Anna thought as she fixed Lady Mary's hair, _was everyone against him?_

She had heard the talk everywhere, upstairs and below. Apart from the earl and her, he had no defenders. Moreover, Thomas and O'Brien seemed to be actively trying to secure his dismissal. She had followed through on her promise to be as nice to him as possible, and while she found him reluctant to speak much about himself, he wasn't a bad sort of man. He worked hard and was respectful enough to everyone. She wasn't sure what else he had to do. Of course, he had trouble carrying a full load, and couldn't do every single thing that they needed, but the house seemed to be managing.

* * *

He reflected on his first few weeks in service at the house. He thought it had gone fairly well, although he was positive Grantham wasn't sure about him. This was a good position, he knew, especially when he considered where he'd just been. He wouldn't do one thing to jeopardise it. The earl had seemed satisfied with his work, but he also questioned Bates and expressed his doubts silently through his actions. He could tell Grantham was conflicted, so he had to keep reassuring his employer. He hadn't expected less, actually, but he also hadn't expected to have earned the vitriol now shown him by the lady's maid and first footman. He knew they didn't like him, but he felt they were going out of their way to sabotage him. He couldn't fail to hear the comments from them or notice the looks they gave him.

It really didn't bode well for the future, but his choices were limited at the moment. He could fight back the only way he knew how, or he could continue to let it go. Unfortunately, he'd learned how to defend himself on the streets, at war, and in prison. Fighting back against them his way would be a bloody business. Then there was the fact he had made promises to himself. He had sworn he wouldn't act that way again. He had made a choice, and now he was going to have to stick with it, no matter what they did to him. It was the only way to continue to move forward.

Anna noticed he didn't like to accept help, though he usually eventually took it when she offered. He let her pick up the cutlery he dropped, even though she could tell it humiliated him. She was sure it was his pride, but even people who didn't have an injury needed help sometime. She thought back to the time he couldn't open the door because his hands were full. Even then he didn't want her help, and she'd had to make him realize that having full hands and not being able to open the door could happen to anyone and had nothing to do with a bad leg. They shared a laugh over that, and she found herself hoping he would be able to stay. She had wanted to get some time to chat with him, but she could see he was spending a lot of time getting to know his job and the routine of the house. In her attempts to be friendly and welcoming, she settled for sitting next to him at meals and offering a pleasant smile when she could. He initially seemed reticent to her overtures, she noticed. While he was never unfriendly, she found that he seemed reluctant to open up to her. She had trouble reading his thoughts though, so she wasn't sure whether he didn't trust her, thought he might not be staying, or perhaps if it was something else.

* * *

This was not going to end well, he thought from his position in the dirt and gravel. His defeat overtook him. He couldn't initially think what he'd done to earn this humiliation, but he no longer cared. It was only a matter of time now. Yet, he knew exactly why he was on the ground and his fall and the resulting shame he felt was nothing now to the pity he saw in Anna's eyes. It didn't matter if it was concern instead of pity; the result was the same. She stood there looking at him in a way he didn't like. He had to get away from her, he knew, as he turned toward the servant's entrance. They were all against him, he had no one. Well, it wasn't a very different situation from where he'd come, and where he'd probably return soon. It was one thing to drop the silver, and quite another to allow O'Brien to put him flat on his face in front of everyone. He knew what was coming. A person didn't reach his age without learning certain things, and he had learned this lesson well.

Three months. His redemption was going to last exactly three months. He shouldn't be surprised, really, because when he thought about it, he wondered why it took even this long. He'd made exactly one friend in these last months, and that was actually one friend more than he'd expected to make. He wasn't looking for friends in any case. He needed a job, not friends. Now what would he do? His dismissal was horribly uncomfortable, and he knew Grantham was just as embarrassed as he. He had begged for his job. Not in so many words, but they both knew that's what he was doing. It was humiliating, but he'd suffered worse. Now he just had to figure out what he was going to do with himself.

Anna felt she had to do what was right. They had done a horrible job welcoming him, and now he was leaving. She admitted to herself that she liked him, thought he could be a good friend. They got along well, and he had provided her with a pleasant distraction in those small moments of free time they both shared. When he didn't come down for dinner, she figured she would never see him again. She quickly decided to offer him one last measure of support with a dinner tray. She knew she hadn't been able to keep the look of concern to herself when he fell, and was sure he misunderstood her opinion. She knew he had to be thinking they were all against him, and she would make an effort to show him that it wasn't true.

He guessed he would have to move back in with his mother, but what would he tell her? That he'd failed yet again? Sighing, he quit packing and flopped down on his bed. He couldn't hope to find another place like this one. He felt the tears start to come, but there was no stopping them. He didn't want to stop them anyway.

_Failure, drunk, con, failure, crippled, useless, failure..._ He could only think of all the things he was.

Well, what did he expect? It was impossible to turn such a life around; it had just gone too far in the wrong direction.

Her stomach fell, _this isn't right_, Anna thought as he came into view. She could see him clearly, and it broke her heart. She couldn't stand to see someone so upset, especially someone she had grown to like and respect.

He shouldn't be sitting there crying when his only crime was to run afoul of Thomas and O'Brien. They had all earned the animosity of those two at one time or another, and it didn't seem fair he should be made to suffer for it. She knew more than he did that it wasn't just the limp. He had been in the way of Thomas's ambition and O'Brien's hate, but she didn't see how telling him that would do any good. She couldn't let him know she had seen him this way. After the way she reacted when he'd fallen, this would probably cause him further mortification. She couldn't make him feel worse, she wouldn't, she thought as she backed a bit down the hallway. She could either leave or give him a minute to compose himself. Well, she wasn't leaving, she decided, she couldn't leave him like this.

He could not believe what he was seeing. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had done anything like this for him. He didn't know what to say, but he knew. Knew she could tell he'd been crying. After he took the tray, he wanted to shut the door, to shut her out, but he couldn't. He shouldn't have told her not to feel sorry for him. He felt bad about that, he guessed, but his world was crashing down, and he had no idea how to stop it. He could count on one hand the number of times in the last five years someone did something nice for him. She was innocent, though. If she knew him, she would be running in the opposite direction, not standing there trying to make him feel better. He didn't deserve this, she should glad he was leaving so he didn't taint her. Well, no matter, he would never see her again anyway, but he could take this act of kindness with him.

Despite what they were saying to each other, they both knew he wasn't getting another job in service. They had to maintain their awkward politeness; even as they understood the situation he was in. Anna truly was sorry, she just had no idea what to say to make it better. She tried her best to make him understand that she valued him as a person, but there wasn't much she could really do. In all likelihood, they would never see each other again, but she just couldn't let it go. She felt relieved when he closed the door, or else she may have stood there for an improper amount of time struggling to make him feel fit. That wouldn't do either of them any good, she thought as she turned and made her way back down the hall, but she couldn't stop that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that kept telling her the wrongness of this situation. She felt as if she had failed him in some way.

* * *

In the light of day, he felt more encouraged than he did last night in the darkness.

_The light_, who was he kidding. There was no light, only the abyss, and he was staring into it.

He wanted to give up, felt the overwhelming urge to do just that. Maybe he should just end it all. _No,_ he thought, dismissing the notion as quickly as it had come. He would just have to push on. He knew it was his failure, and not Grantham's, so he harboured no ill will toward the man. When Bates wished him good luck, he meant it. He refused to misplace his anger, and kept it squarely on himself where it belonged.

Well, he thought as he settled into the car, he would decide what to do when he got to his mother's house. He couldn't fool himself enough into thinking that this would be all right. He would never be all right again. He heard Grantham's yell and felt the car stopping. _Now what_, he couldn't help thinking. He just wanted to get out of there, to stop prolonging the agony.

He was getting a second chance? He couldn't hide his relief, and he didn't want to try. He couldn't believe this was happening.

_Thank God_, was all he could think, and swore to himself he would repay this.

He would repay this act of loyalty if it killed him. At that moment, he didn't care if it was pity or not. He wouldn't have to leave in disgrace, and that was all that mattered. He was too desperate, so he would take what he could get and consider the details later.

This turn of events delighted Anna. They would get a chance to overcome last night's awkwardness, and she couldn't wait to get started. She would take this opportunity to do better. She saw the fury in Thomas and O'Brien, and could not stop herself from smirking. She and Mr. Bates had won this round, and she found herself looking forward to the next one.


	4. Chapter 2

Anna sat alone at the servant's hall table. She was polishing Lady Mary's satin slippers, but she wasn't paying much attention to what she was doing. She had polished shoes so many times; her hands mechanically did their work without requiring much thought at all. Today, that was a good thing, because Anna couldn't focus very much on what she was doing. At the moment, all her attention was squarely on the elusive Mr. Bates.

While thrilled he was staying, Anna knew she had unfinished business with him. She believed that seeking him out the night before he was supposed to leave was a genuine step toward a good friendship, but that its progress would be interrupted upon his departure. The fates had obviously deemed they be friends, because in the end, he'd stayed. She took that to mean she should get to know him better, and perhaps reach the same level of companionship with him as she had with Gwen.

Anna had worked in the house a long time. Through the years she had seen many servants come and go. It was a vocation with a very high turnover rate, as many moved on for better positions, got married, or started their own businesses. Very few of them stayed to make a lengthy career in the same house. Since most had left by the time they turned twenty-five, and she was well past that age, she had turned her thoughts to following in Mrs. Hughes's footsteps. She considered herself a hard, capable worker, and she took her duties very seriously. She was optimistic by nature and had a soft heart, she knew, but she also prided herself on her toughness when it was necessary. She looked after the girls in her charge, and she made it her duty to get along with and properly serve those above her.

She'd had to maintain a delicate balancing act, however, with those not so nice servants who came along, people like Thomas and Miss O'Brien. She frequently searched her mind for any redeeming qualities they might possess, but often found she couldn't think of a single one. Since it was so hard for her to hold a grudge, she usually softened over time in her attitudes toward them, but they would disappoint her again, and she would be back to the beginning. She knew it was her weakness, yet she continued to try to forgive them, while they repeatedly let her down. This continuous back and forth with individuals like them had taken a toll on her the older she got. She now regarded every new person she met with cautious optimism, but she had learned not to hold her tongue when they tried to walk on her. It was an attitude that had served her well over the last few years, and she no intention of trying to change. As a result, she was having a real problem with Mr. Bates.

Upon their initial meeting, she was nice to him because he was new. She doubled her efforts because of the way the others were treating him, and she went out of her way to welcome him. Over his first three months, she tried very hard to get to know him, but she didn't feel like she knew him better than she did the day she met him. Oh, she had tried; she had tried very hard. However, it seemed he was avoiding her at the moment. Anna didn't think much of it at first, because at the beginning he was obviously getting to know the house and his job, which no doubt took up much of his time. He had also sat next to her at meals, during which they chatted about insignificant matters, so she figured everything was fine. Those minor chats, coupled with her observations about the way he treated others and the manner in which he conducted himself led her to believe he would be a worthy companion. She liked him, she admitted, and she did consider him a friend.

So, when she saw he was staying, she figured they would naturally get to know each other better. Yet, no matter what she tried, she could never get him to reveal anything about himself. She would ramble on about herself, and he would smile in all the appropriate places during her stories, but when it was his turn to talk, he never said anything. In order to fill the awkward silences that would ensue, she began to talk more and more. He listened to her with great interest, nodded when she felt he should, and smiled at her a great deal. She just felt like she was giving a speech all the time. Without his active participation, she felt like she was running out of topics. She got the impression everything she said was interesting to him due to his attention and response, but his stony silence discouraged her, though he was never, ever rude. She knew he could talk because she had heard him do so in the past. He offered a comment or opinion here or there when directly asked by her or others, so he was obviously capable of it. She wasn't sure exactly what she wanted. It was just that after she finished talking with him, she still didn't know one thing about him and she hoped that would change.

She quickly decided that he didn't want to say anything revealing because of the others who were always around. Sure that was the reason; she resolved to get him alone, so that she might get him to open up a bit. Only, she could never get him alone for very long. She tried, she really did, but every single time they were alone, he left before she could say very much. He did make excuses and give her smiles, yet he never sat still long enough for her to begin a private conversation. Short of running into Lord Grantham's dressing room after he left and slamming the door with her and Mr. Bates inside, she didn't know what else to do.

If she were honest with herself, she should take the hint and give up, however, there was something she couldn't define that kept drawing her back to him. She also couldn't help but notice that when she arrived at the table before him, he always sat next to her, even when other seats were available. It wasn't just the table though, so she didn't think he had just gotten comfortable in that spot. He also sat or stood next to her when the servants went anywhere as a group, finding his place beside her in any crowded room. She felt as drawn to his side as much as he clearly felt drawn to hers, even if she didn't understand why.

Perhaps it was her overwhelming curiosity or the thrill of the mystery, but she refused to give up and continued to try. She thought she might be making progress when she noticed he was slower and slower to leave when she caught him alone in the servant's hall or on the stairs, but he rarely hung around long enough for a full-blown conversation to develop. She didn't quite know how to broach the topic of his seeming reticence, but her patience was running out. She had finally decided she would corner him at the first opportunity and just come right out with it.

The object of her thoughts was currently in His Lordship's sitting room preparing to polish the buttons on a red hunting jacket. His mind was also drifting as he searched the room for the jacket. He had worked in the house for nearly five months, and things had gone very well. After Grantham had pulled him back from the abyss of his dismissal, Bates further strengthened his resolve. He knew he was on the proper path now, and he intended to stay that way. He had worked hard and kept to himself as he swore he would, and felt much more comfortable in his position. The previous day, he had been over to see Molesley, who he had known when they were footmen together in the same house. Bates felt bad for Molesley since he didn't have much to do in the Crawley household, but he was glad he wasn't in the same situation. He wanted to keep busy; it kept his mind from wandering too far.

He also felt he had the measure of most of the other servants he interacted with on a daily basis. He continued to suffer comments and looks from Thomas and O'Brien, but he had developed a healthy mutual respect for Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes. He also noticed his long dormant protective instincts arise when he thought of William or Daisy, no doubt a result of their youth and innocence. _Youth and innocence_, he thought as an image of Anna leapt into his mind. He realized he felt all those emotions when he thought of her. He remembered her comments, and glances at him, the mutual respect they had developed, and overwhelming protective instincts he felt when he looked at her. That wasn't all he felt when he looked at her though. He also thought she was very pretty, too pretty when it came down to it. It discomfited him to no end.

He noticed how she tried to engage him in conversation, willing him to reveal things about himself. What was he supposed to say? I've been in prison the last two years, but hey, I'm here now? I'm a drunk and a convicted thief, but don't let's worry about that? I feel at home sleeping in a gutter? No, he wasn't going to say any of that. He would never say any of that to her, ever. He did consider them friends already. He enjoyed sitting next to her listening to her talk about herself. He found himself looking forward to those moments, but he also dreaded them, knew she expected him to say something when it was his turn. The thing was, he really did want to talk to her, to have a full conversation. He just didn't know how to divert the topic to things he was comfortable sharing. He made sure to refrain from being alone with anyone, especially her, to avoid any unnecessary evasion.

He was getting weak though, he could feel it, but he knew it was because he was so very tired of running. Maybe he should try to take charge of the conversation, to steer it in a direction with which he could be comfortable. That would allow him to relax a bit and quit worrying. He decided it was a good idea, and he'd give it a try. He located the jacket, which had been there right in front of him the whole time, and made up his mind to go down to the servant's hall, relax, and talk to whoever might be hanging out there. It was a good plan, he thought, as he headed down the stairs with the jacket and his polish.

Arriving downstairs, he turned the corner into the servant's hall full of confidence. But, he was quickly shaken by what he saw, and it made him hesitate. It wasn't full of people; in fact, there was only one person there. The one person he had studiously avoided being alone with for months now. Well, he thought, he'd made a decision and he was going to stick with it.

_Alone at last_? Oh God, he couldn't believe he said that. He didn't know what possessed him, but it seemed flirty to him. He couldn't flirt with her, what was he thinking? He glanced slyly at her to see how she took it, and noticed the slight blush that made its way to her cheeks. He shook himself internally, and struggled to find a safer topic. He decided on one, felt good about it, and settled down for a nice chat.

Anna could not believe this. She had chased him around the house trying to get him alone for so long, and he came strolling in to sit next to her without a care in the world. However, very nearly the first thing out of his mouth flustered her and she felt a tingle in her stomach, though she didn't know why. She knew she was blushing though, as she dropped her eyes to the table. She also couldn't control the smile she gave him as it rose unbidden, reaching her eyes as she looked back up at him. Now she didn't know what to say. That was a new one; she usually didn't find herself at a loss for words, but thankfully, he steered the conversation in a different direction.

But then the front door bell rang...

* * *

On the way back downstairs, she matched his pace, as she'd done every time she found herself walking next to him.

He spoke of changing their opinion of Mr. Carson, given what they knew now, but she defended her loyalty, swearing it wouldn't make any difference. He thought her protestations were charming, but he knew better. He shuddered to think of it, feeling a sudden heaviness in his chest. If she knew about him, her opinion would certainly change, of that he had no doubt. No, she wouldn't admire him more because of it, it would be quite the reverse, he was sure. The thought of it made him sad. Bates knew his secrets were worse than anything Carson had kept from them.

She saw something flicker quickly in his eyes, but it was gone before she could identify it. She considered that maybe he really was hiding something. Well, it wouldn't matter what it was, so she made sure to let him know. He still didn't believe it, but he was getting nervous that he had revealed too much.

_Why do I care what she thinks of me?_ The thought was all that came to mind as he continued toward the table. But he knew exactly why he cared, even if he didn't want to admit it to himself. He liked her, valued her friendship, and would not be able to stomach the disappointment he knew she would feel if she ever found out about him. Anna followed him to the table and took her usual place next to him. She was positive nothing she could ever find out about him could possibly change her opinion. She liked him and knew he was the best kind of man. No, nothing he had done could ever change that.

* * *

Late the following evening, Bates sat at the table in the servant's hall. He'd discovered he enjoyed spending a few hours down there alone after the household had settled down for the night. He used the solitude to finish up any daily chores, think, read, or write letters. After prison, he hated sitting in his small room for such tasks. It wasn't that he'd developed claustrophobia or anything like that; he just discovered lately that he preferred more open spaces.

Tonight was no different; he had felt restless in his room. He didn't have any special tasks to complete, he just felt like he couldn't sit there in that small, dark room any longer. Sleep had eluded him for quite some time, and he had quickly tired of pacing in his confined space. So, he slipped on his robe and headed downstairs to try a little reading. He was only there a few moments when he heard a noise, which pulled him quickly from his book. He lifted his head to glance around, looking for its source. He managed to focus on the door just in time to see Anna speed through the doorway. Surprised at seeing him, she stopped short and jumped back a step. He laughed softly at her reaction.

"Sorry to have frightened you," he said, trying to quiet his chuckle.

She let out a deep breath, and then continued on into the room. "You don't look very sorry," she observed, with a smile of her own.

He had nearly scared her to death, but now she felt her smile widen instinctively, and she tried without success to rein it in.

"What are you doing down here alone so late," she asked as she dropped down into the chair next to him.

"I could ask you the same," was his only reply.

She sighed, but didn't say anything, noting he was back to giving her non-answers.

He cleared his throat unnecessarily, and dropped the book on the table. He mentally chastised himself for not giving her a proper answer after he had earlier agreed to try to talk with her properly.

"I couldn't sleep, "he said, and offered her another smile by way of apology.

"The same," she returned, but she refused to tell him the full truth.

The truth was that she had come down for a drink of water and to sit at the table because she was unsettled by a dream. A dream she'd had about him. She couldn't remember the exact details, but it was vivid enough to confuse her a great deal. As soon as she could, she resolved to think about it and try to figure out what was going on. But at the moment, she was sitting here alone next to him, as she had tried to do for a while now, so she didn't want to waste it.

He was having trouble concentrating. She sat perched on the chair in her night-clothes with nothing but a dressing gown to cover her. He wasn't born a gentleman, even if he was doing his best lately to act like one, but he was a man. He made sure he looked in her eyes when he spoke to her, while he kept up his silent chant of _don't look down_ in his head. He feared scaring her, she was young and innocent. _Young_. _Innocent_. He wasn't. _Don't look down._ He cleared his throat again.

"Mr. Bates," she asked with concern, "are you quite well? You sound as if you might be coming down with something."

"Yes, well...I'm fine, really," was the best he could manage. "I was just about to go up to...uh...bed." He grimaced at the sound of his voice as he got to his feet.

She stood too, causing him to close his eyes. He couldn't talk to her when she looked like this.

He opened his eyes and locked them with hers. "Look, um, I come down here to think or read sometimes when I can't sleep, and I can't sleep a lot. So, maybe we can talk another night? You know, if you also couldn't sleep. Some night...," he trailed off with a grin.

"Yes, of course. I'd like that," she offered, returning his smile with another of her own.

"Okay, good night then." _What was he getting himself into?_

"Goodnight," she told him as she headed toward the women's staircase.

He kept his eyes on the ceiling until she had gone, then released the breath he'd been holding and headed toward his room.

* * *

The day seemed to drag on forever. He had looked at his watch a dozen times in the last hour, but the hands were just not moving. He checked to make sure it didn't require winding, before returning it yet again to his pocket. He needed to watch himself, feeling he was flirting with dangerous territory. He knew the promises he'd made to himself, but his mind was swimming with rationalizations. Yes, he was attracted to her, it was true. But really, she was so nice, how could he not be? It didn't mean anything. It couldn't mean anything because he was married. Even if he wasn't, it wouldn't matter because he was an old, lame, ex-con with a sour disposition. She was pure, guileless, and inexperienced; he wouldn't be the one to change any of that. When he saw her at breakfast that morning, he had felt shame wash over him for the thoughts he'd had the previous night. He watched her eyes brighten and her smile widen when she saw him and a physical pain assaulted him. But it would be safe to befriend her, because he was married and she wouldn't feel the same attraction for him that he felt for her in any event. He had complete control of himself he insisted, even as he took out his watch once more, wishing it were evening so he could see if she would come down to talk to him again.

Anna still could not be sure Mr. Bates wasn't coming down with an illness. He'd kept clearing his throat last night, and this morning when she saw him, he looked as if he were in pain. She found herself worrying about him all morning as she completed her chores, and she wondered what she could do to help. She had intended to go down tonight to see if he was there, but she began thinking if he was ill, he would surely stay in his room and sleep. Truth be told, she was a little sleepy herself. She hadn't had much rest last night what with going down to the servant's hall, and afterward back in her room, she couldn't get her dream out of her mind long enough to fall back to sleep. She eventually did get a few more hours of fitful rest, but she was paying for her neglect at the moment. Yes, perhaps it would be best all around if she went to bed as soon as she could tonight, she decided, as she headed down the hallway to check the current time.

After Anna completed her chores for the evening, she sped quickly to her room to catch up on her sleep. It wasn't going to work, she thought as she climbed into bed, because she was just too anxious. Would he be down there waiting for her? What if he really was ill, but gave up his rest to talk to her and she didn't show up? What if she dreamed about him again? It was no use. She wasn't getting to sleep any time soon. She sighed, and got up to get redressed. It wouldn't do to go down in her robe again, since she knew he could be there this time. Last night was an accident; she didn't want to be inappropriately dressed on purpose tonight. As she opened the door to go down, she surprised Gwen, who was just reaching for the handle.

"Oh, where are you rushing off to," Gwen asked as she caught her breath.

"Just want to check on something...I'll be back," Anna answered barely slowing down.

She rushed down the stairs much quicker than usual. If he was there, she didn't want to keep him waiting or have him leave before she could stop him.

Her heart rate had picked up again, so she slowed down, thinking her haste the cause of it. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she stopped, took a deep steadying breath, and then rounded the doorway into the hall.

He was there.

"Hello," she said quietly, thinking he looked devastatingly handsome.

"Hello," he whispered back, noticing how utterly feminine she looked.

They were both smiling widely again.

He was still in his suit, although the jacket was on the back of the chair, and he was very glad to see she was in her evening maid outfit and not her dressing gown again.

He pushed out the chair next to him with his foot, gesturing toward it. She came around to sit next to him, brushing his back very slightly with her hip. It was an accident, but he sucked in a low breath at the contact. She thought the sound was due to his suspicious illness.

"Mr. Bates," she said as she sat down, "I'm really going to have to insist you lie down if you are feeling ill."

"Never mind that," he told her, as he quickly started to disclose little anecdotes from his early years before he was married, before the war that changed everything. He was afraid he would lose his nerve, so he rambled on, not sure what to gloss over and when to go into detail. He told disjointed little stories and spoke affectionately about his mother, while avoiding those things he knew would disappoint her. He wasn't ready for that yet. She sat there enraptured, listening to him. She thought his stories were amusing and charming and barely noticed as the hours ticked away. She could tell he was well read by the way he spoke, but she also noticed when he held back. She felt lucky to get this much out of him, so she didn't push for more.

He finally saw the time. They had been down there for at least two hours, if not more, so he finally called a halt, suggesting they both go to sleep. As he settled down under his covers, he felt lighter, even if he wasn't sure why. It had been a long time since he just sat down and had a friendly chat with anyone, so he thought maybe that was it. Yes, she had become a good friend over the last few months, and that was all he would admit to.


	5. Chapter 3

Without ever discussing it, they met again the following night and each night after that. Gwen did notice Anna's lengthy absences and thought it odd, but refrained from saying a word about it. However, both acted discreetly, each in turn not wanting to share these moments with anyone else. They no longer sat there talking the entire time, even if they did chat a great deal. Sometimes they just drank tea quietly or read books without speaking for long stretches.

They began spending more time together during the less busy moments of each day. They chatted or sat next to each other in companionable silence during breakfast, tea, or the family's dinner and walked together when the servants took excursions outside the house. Stopping in the hallways to share a smile or private joke, sometimes one made it a point to cross paths with the other. If the servant's hall was crowded or they wanted more privacy during the day, a step into the courtyard to catch up on sewing or polishing at the little table right outside the back door worked perfectly. So unlike each other in temperament and outlook, they discovered a compatibility that allowed them to get along so well.

Bates had taken a couple of quick trips to London with Grantham and each successive time the forced separation affected him more keenly. Upon his dismissal at the end of each day, he felt like he should go to sit downstairs as an established part of his routine. More than once, he was halfway down the stairs when he realized she wouldn't be there. No one would be there waiting for him in the late evening at Grantham's club, making him somehow feel empty.

On his latest overnight trip, he was feeling miserable. Grabbing a book without even looking at the title, he settled down in his desk chair to read. He read the same sentence four times before finally giving up. Throwing the book on his desk, he folded his arms and let his thoughts wander aimlessly. His knee was bothering him, and he suddenly felt old. Maybe he really was more tired than he thought. His leg was a constant source of irritation. Surgery was likely out of the question, the cost and recovery time prohibitive to his finances and job. He wondered how she saw him, probably like everyone else did, he guessed. Pushing that thought away, he idly considered if there was anything he could do about his knee. Maybe he should check to see if there were any new medical advances that could help him out. He had seen an advert a couple of times in the paper a few weeks ago, and initially dismissed the idea, but now he reconsidered. She never said a word about his leg, and rarely ever even as much as glanced at his stick, he thought, beginning to absent-mindedly rub his knee. A stronger leg would certainly help him do his job better. He could carry more things, wait the table, and get more refreshing sleep. If he slept more, he thought vaguely, he would miss sitting downstairs alone with her. Perhaps he could cure himself. Would she notice if he could get rid of his limp? Would she think he looked younger and stronger? It didn't matter, he chastised himself, since he only wanted to fix his leg for his job. Well, if he were honest, he could do without all the stares and comments, but it had nothing to do with her. _Not at all_, he swore as he climbed into bed to finally get some rest. In the morning, he would pen a quick note to the magazine he saw named in the advertisement and send it off, he decided, as he drifted off to sleep.

As much as he hated leaving for London, he truly loved arriving back home. He couldn't wait to see the smile she had for him when they first saw each other. He just wasn't used to things like that. For so long, when he had arrived back home to Vera, he had been met with indifference or outright derision. Although it never got that bad with his mother, she wasn't exactly cheerful to see him when he'd been drinking. Now it was so pleasant to be treated to a smile that was just for him. He couldn't think what he did to deserve a friend like her, but he was happy about it. At times like this, he absolutely refused to consider what could happen if they discovered his deception. It would be soul destroying for him at this point. He couldn't deny the guilt he felt, but he could use it to stay on the proper path. He could never willingly give up his job, never agree to give up the smile he knew he was about to get since this was one of the best parts of coming home.

* * *

After almost six weeks of nearly nightly visits with her below stairs, he finally became aware of her fatigue, noticing the dark marks under her eyes and the yawns she tried so hard to hide. While he was used to operating on little sleep, he knew his job was also much less demanding than hers. He felt shame overwhelm him when he realized he was keeping her from much needed sleep. He thought she would catch up on her rest while he was in London, but apparently she slept as badly as he did when he was away. He supposed he knew it before, but acted selfishly because of the way these interludes made him feel. He so looked forward to the end of each day, to the time he would meet with her, that he quite forgot all the things that used to weigh on him so heavily. He got a perverse pleasure just being in her company and his nightmares had eased. He felt much more serene as he went about his day, a calmness overtaking him that he hadn't felt in such a long time, if ever. Although he tried not to think too much about its cause, he did recognize it was there, and he felt glad of it.

Anna suffered a different reaction, but one that had much the same result. She also forgot many of the things she used to think about, but the reason mystified her. Why now was he all she could think about? She kept wondering at the things he didn't say, noticed how sometimes in the middle of a sentence, he would pause before changing the subject entirely. She was happier though, she conceded. Perhaps it was the thought of their own little conspiracy, or maybe because she had never before expressed her hopes, dreams, and worries to another person so fully. On days when she worked alone and there was no one to distract her, she would think back on it and wonder what it all meant, but she couldn't quite catch hold of the reason. Whatever the cause, she was enjoying herself and had every intention of carrying on. There were so many things she didn't understand, but she promised herself to continue meeting him until she could resolve her issues and figure out what was happening. Unfortunately, though, she wasn't getting nearly as much sleep as she needed. Sometimes they didn't stay downstairs long, so she expected to get enough rest. However, her dreams continued to repeatedly wake her. It frustrated her to no end that she couldn't ever remember them, couldn't even tell whether they were nightmares or not. They began to invade her waking life, as she spent more and more time trying to analyze them, figure out the cause and cure. Even if she never actually dreamt of a monster chasing her, it had the same effect of robbing her of her sleep and occupying her waking thoughts enough for her to consider them unwelcome.

He was going to have to do something about her fatigue. He couldn't have her walking around dead on her feet, it just wouldn't do. He thought he shouldn't have been so unfeeling, should have noticed her lack of sleep sooner. He decided they really needed to take a night off from their regular meeting. When he first told her about spending time in the hall over a month ago, he did mention he didn't go every night. But then he counteracted that claim by proceeding to do just that. He didn't think at this point that he could just not show up without causing her concern. But, he needed to stop meeting her down there every night so she could get some rest. He knew it would disappoint him, but just could not stand to see her decline right in front of his eyes. Guessing she would deny he was the cause, he would tell her as soon as he saw her that he needed his own sleep and wouldn't be downstairs that evening.

His decision to skip their downstairs meeting disappointed Anna, but she understood. Mr. Bates said he needed to catch up on his sleep, and since she knew she did too, she accepted what he said without question. That evening as she lay in her bed, she wondered if he was asleep yet. He said he went down when slumber eluded him, and he had gone there every night for more than a month. She also wondered just how many nights he had sat there before she even noticed. He could have been going down there every night since his arrival, although he did say he only went when he couldn't sleep. He probably was sleeping though, because she remembered him saying how tired he was. It was her last thought before she drifted off into a fitful doze.

She wasn't sure how long she had been out, but it was still dark when she opened her eyes. Her covers twisted in her legs, she felt like she had run a great distance. She was shaking, and she knew why, she'd had another dream about him. She couldn't remember the details of this one either, but she did know that the entire situation was seriously beginning to annoying her. She would really appreciate getting through an entire night without waking up to some poorly defined memory. Why did she keep dreaming about him anyway? She thought perhaps her subconscious mind was trying to tell her something, and she was so frustrated, she swore she'd figure it out as soon as possible. She desperately needed a distraction from him, she guessed. It had to be because of these night-time meetings. As she drifted back off, she wondered if it would be a good idea to put a halt to them altogether.

* * *

Anna flushed again when she saw him the next morning, the memory, if not the details, of her dream still fresh in her mind. She tried to focus on breakfast, and kept her head down as much as possible. He didn't say anything, and barely looked at her, so she figured she was safe from any inquiry, and she relaxed a bit. She wouldn't know what to tell him if he asked. As well as they got along, she didn't think they were close enough that she would feel comfortable telling him she was dreaming about him and it was keeping her awake. It seemed too odd a thing to tell anyone.

He wondered if she was okay. He thought it seemed like she blushed when he looked at her, but he couldn't understand that reaction, so he figured it must have been something else. Perhaps she wasn't well or maybe her lack of rest really was getting to her. He had hoped she would get some sleep, but it didn't look that way to him. She seemed just as fatigued as she had on previous mornings, and he resigned himself to missing another evening with her. He refused to meet her downstairs again until she was looking more rested, even if he did feel disappointed at his decision. Spending time with her was something he knew he couldn't do in London, but he looked forward to it when he was home. Last night had been difficult on him. It didn't bother him to admit he'd missed her, missed sitting next to her chatting and reading.

He'd been waiting a week, and he finally got the letter letting him know his magazine had arrived. Barely containing his excitement, he went down to find Mr. Carson to let him know he had to step into town for a bit. As soon as he could get away, he rushed to collect the post. On the way, he couldn't control his speculation. How long would it take before he felt a difference, if at all? He was sure they would all be in for a surprise, he thought with a grin. How would they react and would she notice when he no longer limped? He couldn't wait to get started.

He ran into Gwen after he collected his magazine. He was so excited, he wondered if he should share his news with her. It was really meant to be a secret, but maybe he could talk about it with her. He noticed she seemed to have a secret of her own and wondered if she had an admirer. It wouldn't surprise him; she was a nice young girl. Girls like her should have someone to look after them, he realized, as he waited outside for her. That idea made him think of Anna. She never mentioned walking out with anyone, he remembered, his mood inexplicably darkening. He searched his brain for any comment she may have made, anything she might have said or done that would give him a clue. He wondered if Gwen would tell him anything about it if he asked. Yet, maybe asking would make her think he had intentions, which would obviously be impossible. Gwen might get the wrong idea, and he would be mortified if she repeated anything to Anna.

"Okay, Mr. Bates, I'm ready." He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, Gwen startled him when she came out.

He smiled and began walking with her back to Downton, considering how he could bring up the topic without appearing too interested.

"Gwen, I...uh...," he trailed off. She looked at him expectantly.

"That is...er." It was no use, he couldn't do it. He wasn't exactly in his element like this.

She stifled her smile and took pity on him, "she's been having trouble sleeping, and I think she's been having nightmares."

He raised his eyebrows at her, but didn't reply. He knew he was caught out, and didn't want to make it worse, though he didn't see how he could. This was already spiralling out of control.

"Yes," Gwen continued, "I think something is bothering her, but she hasn't told me what it is."

He nodded. He understood, because he was having the same problem.

As they walked, he started to think about how far he'd come over the last year. He'd been able to stay off drink without too much of a problem. He had wanted one a couple of times since he'd been at the house, but found it much easier to ignore as time went on. He knew he hadn't really been tested yet though. Never having had what he considered good luck, he always felt like his next trial was right round the bend. He'd made a few friends, but also a couple of enemies. He had been able to hold his temper, although he did feel it rising on occasion. He hoped he could continue to keep it buried. It was a real concern that he would forget to watch his tongue and he always worked hard to control what he said. He was playing a risky game. He'd done well with his new post, but he couldn't forget how he'd gotten it. He wasn't exactly honest when he secured the position. Everything was fine now, but if anyone ever found out, he knew he didn't have a chance. The more he got to know the people in the house, the worse he felt about the deception. He really liked most of them, some more than others. He briefly considered what Anna would do if she ever found out, but he quickly pushed that thought aside, it was too painful to bear thinking about. He thought of Vera suddenly, wondered where she was, what she was doing, and then decided he didn't really want to know. The less he thought about her the better off he was.

What he did really want to know though, was what he thought he was doing. He really should not be sitting down in the dark in the middle of the night with an unmarried female, no matter how friendly they were. Working in a house like that, so physically close to other servants all the time, made the rules of conduct a little blurry. Still, it wasn't, strictly speaking, proper for them to spend so much time down there alone so late. If they continued to do it, night after night, someone would surely notice and get the wrong impression. Feeling that he was the older, more experienced of the two, as well as a male, it was up to him to protect her. Of course, he knew it was innocent and it always would be, but he also realized that people could get the wrong idea and she could be harmed. The main problem, as he saw it, was that he didn't want to stop and he wasn't sure he could even if that was what he wanted. It would be easier to stop drinking, and he'd only managed that through force.

Now, he'd actually questioned Gwen about Anna, maybe not in so many words, but he did it nonetheless. Yes, he was definitely flirting with danger. He was going to have to back off as gracefully as possible. Unfortunately, grace had never quite been his strong suit. He let out a deep sigh, this was getting way too complicated, an entanglement he couldn't afford. He could really get her in trouble, and he could lose his job if they thought he was corrupting young women. He had been pulled back from the brink so many times over the last few years, and now he was barreling toward it again. He needed to find Anna when he got back to the house. He was going to have to talk to her about stopping the downstairs meetings, and he somehow had to do it without hurting her feelings. He had to be careful, upsetting her would destroy him.

"Mr. Bates," Gwen said tentatively, surprising him because he had actually forgotten he was walking home with her. "I wouldn't want to be disloyal to Anna because we're great friends," she continued. He stopped walking and turned to face her.

"It's just...well...I think she really likes you, and I'd hate for her to get...hurt in any way," Gwen rushed out.

He closed his eyes, lips pressed tightly together, and nodded. He considered himself warned. He turned and started walking toward the house again. He couldn't be angry, Gwen was a good kid, and she was right.

* * *

Anna was in her room, trying to find more storage space, but as soon as she had a moment, she needed to find Mr. Bates. She wanted to discuss their after hours meetings. She obviously wouldn't tell him about the dreams she was having, but she did want them to go away. Not only was she sure she shouldn't be dreaming so much about him, she desperately wanted to get a night of uninterrupted sleep. She wouldn't tell him, but she slept even worse when he was away in London. She did feel maybe they should stop meeting every night, thinking perhaps that was the reason for her odd dreams, even as she remembered the first one came before she ever realized he was going down there at night. It would be difficult, she knew. They could still talk at meals and tea though. It wasn't like she wanted to stop being friends with him, no she couldn't do that, it would be much too painful. Her mood had begun to suffer, she knew. She always liked to try to keep a positive attitude, but she had struggled with that lately. She just had to resolve these dreams and all would be fine.

Maybe talking about it with someone else would help. She briefly thought about bringing up the subject to Gwen, but Anna was really worried about her. Gwen was currently wrapped up in her own troubles, so Anna didn't want to burden her unnecessarily. She was a good friend and confidant, and Anna truly hoped she wasn't making mistake. It was a brave thing her friend was trying to do, but Anna wasn't sure if she could do something like that herself. She didn't consider herself the least bit bold or daring. She couldn't think of one truly brave thing she'd ever done in her life. Yes, she did speak up in defence when someone was being bullied, but that didn't take courage, that was more about protection and caring. In fact, she was feeling decidedly cowardly at the moment, but they were ganging up on Gwen and that just wasn't right. Anna couldn't let her stand there and defend herself alone against Miss O'Brien. Gwen was too sweet, O'Brien would eat her alive, so Anna felt she had to speak up. Really, it wasn't any of O'Brien's business anyway. She wished the woman would leave them alone.

Apparently Mr. Bates agreed with her, even if no one else did. Well, good, that was one more person in her and Gwen's corner. As the others filed out of the room, Anna noticed Mr. Bates hanging back, so she drifted to his side. After the room cleared, he praised Anna for her defence of Gwen, which filled her with a sense of pleasure, though he ruined it a moment later.

"Listen," he began, his voice almost a whisper, "I don't like to do it, but I think we really need to take a break from meeting downstairs in the evening."

He had just verbalized what she had been thinking, yet she was taken aback.

"Whatever for?" She heard herself asking, even though she had just been about to tell him almost the exact same thing.

He stared at her, then let out a sigh. He hadn't thought far enough in advance to give her a proper answer. His stomach suddenly started to hurt, and he almost couldn't do it. He didn't want to do it. This was a lot harder than he thought.

"I'm having trouble... sleeping," he tried to convince her, "and I think I should work harder at it. Perhaps...perhaps if I stayed in my room, it would be easier."

Her mouth dropped open for a moment, before she noticed and quickly closed it. He was having the same problem as her. She wondered if she should tell him, but quickly decided she shouldn't, not wanting it to lead to awkward questions.

She nodded sadly instead, "you'll let me know if you change your mind?"

"Of course I will. This isn't permanent, just a few days," he told her with a cheerless smile as they moved to leave the room.


	6. Chapter 4

The following day was his half day off, so he took the train to Leeds to see about the limp corrector. His breath hitched when he saw it, the thing looked barbaric, like an instrument of torture. Really though, who cared what it looked like as long as it worked? However, he suddenly wasn't as excited anymore. In fact, he started to feel rather ill. Bates wasn't sure what he expected, but this seemed a little much. He could do this though; he'd dealt with much worse. He was under no illusion that it would be easy, but he was positive he could manage. When they saw he'd sorted his limp, the reward would make it worth the trouble, no doubt.

Anna sat in the servant's hall drinking tea during the family's dinner, although she was so deep in thought, she hadn't taken a sip from her cup in a while and it had gone cold. She considered herself a very practical person, a problem solver and certainly not one given to reacting overemotionally, so she was determined to reason out her problems. It appeared that her life was spiraling just a bit out of control. She was doing well with her job, but her personal life was in turmoil. She seemed to be losing both her closest friends, couldn't sleep, kept having weird dreams, and didn't want to stop herself from checking out the handsome Turkish gentleman. She knew there was nothing wrong with looking as long as she didn't let him touch, but now that she was feeling so unsettled, she wondered if she were having some kind of female problem. She wasn't sure at what age she could expect her 'change of life', but she wondered if this was it. She was still fairly young, though, so she doubted that was the case. Obviously, the hope of getting married and having a family had passed her by, but life certainly wasn't over for her. She had gotten a couple of serious offers years ago, but it just hadn't seemed worth the trouble. Turning down enough overtures over the years had given most suitors the idea that she intended to stay in service for the duration, and she couldn't disagree with that assessment. She'd been kissed, had her hand held, and gotten a couple of hugs, but she never really entertained the idea of more. As most invitations ceased, she settled into a comfortable existence, accepted her circumstance, and felt very happy with her choices. Sure, she got the odd offer now and then, but not from anyone exciting enough for her to give it a go.

That thought led her to Mr. Bates. _What was going on with him?_ One minute they are meeting in the hallways, talking, laughing, making up stories, and having nighttime visits in the servant's hall, now she could barely get him to speak to her. Even though they did still chat at meals and walk with each other to church, she missed him and wished she could spend more time with him. Yes, he said it was because he needed his sleep, but it didn't seem like he needed it before and now suddenly he did. Moreover, he never really looked very rested, in fact, it seemed quite the opposite. It was all so very strange. He also looked like he was in pain all the time. She couldn't figure that one out at all and wondered if his knee was bothering him more than usual. She'd had just about enough of Mr. Bates's behaviour though and as soon as she could she would corner him to find out what was going on. Gwen was taking up all Anna's free time at the moment with her job fears, but she was determined to find out what was wrong with Mr. Bates.

He was doing a miserable job hiding his discomfort, and he really needed them to quit asking him about it. Lord Grantham and Mrs. Hughes commented on it, but he saw the others watching him. He even caught Anna staring a time or two, but he didn't know what to say, so he just avoided them all as much as possible. Mrs. Hughes in particular would just not let it go. He wasn't necessarily trying to be evasive with it; he just didn't want them feeling sorry for him. He knew how it would go, they would see his attempt to heal himself, and then they would be unable to hide their pity. Well, he wouldn't allow that. He'd continue to suffer in silence for the rest of his life before giving them another reason to pity him, he promised, as he tightened the metal bans cutting into his leg. He just wished Mrs. Hughes wasn't so tenacious, he liked her, but he couldn't tell her. He couldn't tell any of them, but he wouldn't be able to keep it from her much longer if she kept watching him so closely.

He was going down to tea, but really did not look forward to descending the stairs. His leg was on fire every minute of the day. He had to keep it up though, he couldn't slack off or it wouldn't work. He needed it to work, even as he wished it still didn't matter to him. When did he start caring about his leg anyway? He'd been perfectly fine with his knee the way it was ever since it started bothering him. Okay, well, not perfectly fine with it, but he had accepted it. Why was he putting himself through this now when he had a job in a house with a thousand stairs?

Anna immediately noticed a change in Mr. Bates when he arrived and took his seat. She couldn't say what it was exactly but he looked tense to her, appeared to have an uneasy expression. She worried about it, but with O'Brien sitting across from her, she didn't think she should ask him directly. Caught up so much in her thoughts, she absent-mindedly took a sip of her cold tea. She couldn't control the sound she made as she swallowed, and quickly looked around to see if anyone had noticed. O'Brien was smirking at her, but barely missing a beat, Mr. Bates poured her another cup, fixed it how she liked it and replaced the offending cup with the fresh one he'd just prepared. He didn't say one word throughout his ministrations, but when she looked at him to express thanks, he was grinning at her. She flushed and forgot what she was going to say, quickly taking a sip from the new cup to cover her embarrassment. Maybe they were okay; perhaps she had read too much into his odd actions lately. She was still concerned about him though.

She leaned toward him, whispering, "Mr. Bates?" He loved the way she leaned toward him.

"Anna?" he conspiratorially whispered back. She loved the way he said her name.

"Is everything okay with...," she glanced down at his knee.

He suddenly felt warm. He wished she wouldn't ask, but it did give a reminder of why he was suffering through this cure.

"I'm fine. Don't worry," he said on a low sigh.

She nodded, unconvinced. She drank more of her tea and realized how perfectly he'd made it. It was nice of him to take note of how she liked it, she mused. Since he obviously didn't want to talk about his knee, she tried to think of a safer topic.

"Have you been sleeping well?" she asked. His smile faltered, causing her to think this might not be a safe topic either.

What could he say, he wondered. He'd never slept better in his life than after they sat together in the hall for a few hours at night. He'd put a stop to that so she could get her own rest, and now he barely slept at all. He wasn't sure she would understand. How could he explain it so that it would make sense?

"Not really," was all he could think to say. _I know what you mean_, she thought, anxious to resolve her elusive problem and get back to normal.

* * *

Anna stood in the hallway in shock, not believing what she was hearing. _This could not be happening. Surely, this was some kind of test._ Any minute she would wake up, warm in her bed, to discover this was just another one of her nightmares. She thought she was having odd dreams before, this was really going to do it. She'd never sleep properly again after this. How could Lady Mary allow herself to get in this position? Anna agreed the man was handsome, but that really was no excuse. She would never have imagined doing anything like this in her life. Lady Mary was obviously not thinking clearly at the moment, and Anna knew she had to help her. Of course she had to help, never really considered refusing her aid. She was operating in full-blown emergency mode now, she couldn't even think, just had to act. Thank goodness she was in her room when Lady Mary came for her. She cringed to think what would have happened if she were downstairs with Mr. Bates instead. Had she once thought this would be her opportunity to catch up on her sleep? She briefly wondered what Mr. Bates would think if he knew she was dragging a dead, naked man through the house. No, that didn't bear thinking about since she would never, ever tell him. She would go to her grave before she ever let him find out what she had done. Even the mention of his name on Lady Mary's lips was enough to give her heart palpitations. No, he must never know. She didn't care what she had to go through to keep the information from him forever. She helped Lady Mary back to her room and put her to bed, then rushed up to her own, resolved to forget this night ever happened.

* * *

Good God this was torturous, Bates thought as he put on the brace in the morning. The only time he allowed himself to take it off was when he got into bed. He didn't want to look too closely at his leg as he worked the metal bands. Based on how it felt, he knew it must look bad. If he examined it too much, he might lose his nerve. He certainly hoped it was worth it. He was exceptionally thankful he'd quit going downstairs every night. He terribly missed spending time with Anna, but he never would have made the walk down and climb up the stairs afterward. He was on his way down to breakfast and barely making it now. He thought getting shot was painful. He laughed humourlessly, convinced he'd rather relive that pain a thousand times over compared to the way he felt now. Yes, the man said it would work and it wouldn't be easy, but Bates began wondering if he truly knew just what it did to a leg. He didn't think this was normal. _Did the bloke call this a corrector?_ All it did was make things worse, he mused, as he kept waiting to notice a change. It was changing things all right. Unfortunately, it was crippling him. He couldn't give up though. It had to work; he was too invested in it now to fail.

Heading down to breakfast, Anna could not forget the events of the previous night no matter how hard she tried. She really needed to get control of herself. Her recent behaviour was so out of character, she didn't know what to do. Everything was turned upside down. Her usually positive and cheery disposition was changing. She couldn't get away from her dreams or hold onto a single thought, she was missing her friends, oh and yes, she was dragging dead men through the house. She was feeling very vulnerable and couldn't stand to feel that way. She was usually so self-assured and confident. _Where had all her composure and determination gone?_ All she could think was that she needed to talk to Mr. Bates. He would make her feel better; she just needed to explain things to him. She didn't suppose she could be specific, she realized with a tremble, but maybe he could give her some advice if she was vague enough when she spoke to him. He was vague with her often enough, he could deal with it. Yes, she would approach him as soon as possible, she decided as she took her seat.

Anna stared at Mr. Bates as he came into the hall. He looked like he was in pain, and her heart went out to him. Was she thinking of burdening him with her troubles when he obviously had some of his own? He offered her a weak smile as she watched him stumble to his chair and snatch up the newspaper. She returned a similar grin, but dropped her eyes as she wondered for the hundredth time what he would think if he knew what she had just done.

"What's got your attention, Anna?" Thomas drawled out. She jerked her head in the direction of Miss O'Brien's laugh.

Anna had chanced another glance at Mr. Bates as he was reading the newspaper, and now she was caught. He had lowered the paper at Thomas's comment and saw her looking at him before she turned toward Miss O'Brien.

Even though he was distracted by the paper, Bates couldn't help notice what Thomas and O'Brien were doing. They were obviously up to something, enjoying themselves way too much. And they were enjoying themselves. O'Brien had seen Anna "mooning after the cripple," as she'd put it, and told Thomas immediately. A week or so ago, O'Brien had come upon them sitting in the servant's hall alone in the middle of the night. She managed to keep herself hidden from them as she considered how to best use the information. She told Thomas at the first opportunity, and they hid downstairs a couple of nights ago to spy on Bates and Anna if they came down again. However, neither of them showed up. Thomas decided to take his disappointment out on Anna today, O'Brien guessed. Still, she found it amusing and could not help laughing at the situation.

Anna was more angry than embarrassed though. She was having enough trouble dealing with what she'd done last night and the resulting guilt, as well as her obligation to keep the secret. She didn't need these two making things worse.

"Not a thing," she told Thomas, giving him a devastating smile just to annoy him. She had no intention of letting him know that he was bothering her, he'd never stop if she did.

Thomas frowned and went back to his breakfast, whispering to O'Brien under his breath.

Anna slyly glanced at Mr. Bates from her seat, trying to keep him from noticing it. She soon discovered how difficult that would be, since he was already staring at her. Caught out, she merely smiled. It looked to her like she startled him, but he quickly returned her smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. She felt her heartbeat speed up and wondered absent-mindedly at that reaction. He didn't realize he'd been staring. Did he at one time think she was pretty? He didn't think that anymore. She was beautiful. When she had glanced at him, he lost his breath, but could not stop the answering smile from spreading across his lips. His stomach started to hurt and not in a good way. He wanted to say something, anything, but the room was nearly full, and he wasn't sure how to begin. As a result, they sat there, smiling stupidly at each other for what felt like an eternity. His mind was racing, rendering him unable to catch hold of a single thought except that he must turn way. He needed to stop staring now. He turned his head away to break the connection, but his eyes would not listen, remaining firmly on hers of their own accord. Their eyes still locked, her heartbeat had rocketed to what she considered was surely an unsafe rate. She had no frame of reference and could not figure out her reaction to his stare. They both heard the bell go off at the same time and finally broke their gaze apart. Yet, neither moved to leave, individually wrapped up in their own thoughts.

Even as she was confused about such a new emotional response, he knew exactly what it was, although he had never before felt it with such intensity. It brought him up short, and caused him to momentarily lose his breath again. _No, no, no_, roared through his head.

"I have to go get the...," he choked out, before leaping to his feet and fairly running as fast as his injured leg would carry him out of the hall, not giving as much as a backward glance. Anna was stunned.

"Now what brought that on," she muttered, before wondering if he was having the same reaction and confusion as she. Obviously that was it, she thought, and smiled to herself as she got to her feet. She may not have understood much of what she was feeling at the moment, but to think he was going through the same emotions comforted her immensely.

* * *

_He was in trouble._ He understood completely that he was infatuated with her, and knew he had to stop it immediately. He had suspected it before, but denied it to himself. He couldn't deny it any longer. He was going to have to stay away from her. Yes, she was safe because he was married, and he was positive she could not possibly be interested in someone like him. This was more about self-preservation it shamed him to admit. She probably wouldn't understand why he had to keep away. He knew it was not possible that she felt the same way, but that didn't matter. What mattered was he had lost his way. He had spent over two hard years dragging himself onto the right path, and now he was lusting after a housemaid. That would never do. It was more than that though, he reasoned. She wasn't just any housemaid, she was Anna, and it might not just be lust. _No_, he shook his head and mentally chastised himself, it wasn't lust, he knew it wasn't. It would make things so much easier if that was his problem. Lust was what he'd felt for Vera so long ago and this was so different, it frightened him.

_Oh God_, he had really lost it. The idea wasn't really distasteful, far from it, it was just impossible. He had to stay away, of course. He would have to avoid her for as long as it took to gain control of himself. Once he could do that, he could continue on with their friendship. He didn't want to lose her completely, he admitted, shuddering at the thought. No, he didn't want that. It would be difficult, but he just needed some time to regain his reality. However, he would rather wear the limp corrector indefinitely than avoid her. Everything was going fine, how could he let this happen? He couldn't think about it right now, it was too painful. He was going to have to sort it though, sooner rather than later.

"Bates!" The sound finally invaded his senses. His lordship had obviously been trying to get his attention for a while. Bates looked around. He had been standing there holding Grantham's tie without moving for an obscene amount of time.

"Honestly," Grantham said, but he wasn't really angry, Bates noticed, as he was laughing when he said it. "Where are you?"

"I'm here now, I promise," Bates told him with an answering grimace. "I'm sorry..." Grantham waved the apology off and stuck out his neck yet again for his tie.

* * *

"Why are you doing this Mr. Bates?" Mrs. Hughes asked him as he sat there holding up his pant leg.

He wished he could remember. His reasons had left him long ago. Did it have something to do with his job? Or Anna? A jumbled mess of pain, confusion, and emotion, he couldn't think properly. He could only shrug his shoulders and shake his head. Completely lost, he didn't know what to do about anything. How had he gotten into this situation, he wondered yet again. It was all pressing down on him. It had been almost three years since he'd promised himself a change. Although he had done well in some areas, he'd failed miserably in others. He had no clue what he was doing. Wasn't he supposed to do his job, keep his head down and stay out of everyone's way? Well, how was that going for him? He gritted his teeth, knowing that he'd lost his vision somewhere along the way.

Looking up at Mrs. Hughes, he couldn't control his surprise. He could not believe she was crying over him. It was embarrassing, but it touched him nonetheless. He wasn't uncomfortable because of the corrector, it was because of the concern she was showing for him. No one cared about him, so why was she crying? This was just too much. He was overwhelmed and desperately needed to regain some measure of control. He found himself agreeing to her suggestion to get rid of the thing without even knowing to what he was agreeing. Her hands carefully loosening the bands, he didn't stop her as she gently took it off him. She wanted to call the doctor, but he refused. Showing Mrs. Hughes was bad enough, he couldn't let anyone else know what he'd done. Anna couldn't know what he'd done. Hell, when did he let himself care so much about her and what she thought? It was too much.

His emotions had led him to this. He couldn't remember when he'd starting feeling anything. Eight months ago, he operated on a strictly rational level and he had everything under control. Since then he'd let himself care too much and worry how others saw him. He needed to rid himself of these feelings immediately. He'd gone soft and look at the trouble it brought. He must regain his focus, find his discipline, and remind himself of his promises. It was the only way. This was a very dangerous time for him, he knew. He could either get back on the proper road, or forget the whole thing. If he wasn't careful, he would probably be drunk by this time tomorrow. He had a decision to make.

He suddenly realized he was just sitting there staring blankly while Mrs. Hughes continued to talk to him. He hadn't heard a word.

"Mrs. Hughes, please, I don't want to impose," he choked out.

"Oh Mr. Bates, you've already done that," she kindly replied with a smile.

Knowing that she understood him very well, he smiled back as he struggled to his feet to follow her to the lake.


	7. Chapter 5

He begged a few minutes alone at the lake after he and Mrs. Hughes had finished their ritual with the limp corrector. She told him she understood and left with a reminder to not be too long. Staring unseeing at the spot the corrector slowly drifted to the bottom of the lake, he had to admit he wasn't sorry to see the brace go. His leg felt better already, but now he had to sort his newly discovered feelings. His feelings. Since when did he have feelings? He thought back to the night he'd been sacked, to Mrs. Hughes crying over his leg, to Anna. Apparently he had nothing but feelings, he thought with a shake of his head. What happened to the promises he'd made? It appeared he'd done nothing but let his emotions overwhelm him since the day he walked into that house. Oh, he was a fool, he realized, as he let out a low laugh. He'd thought he could just decide not to feel and nothing would touch him.

He realized his error too late. He had let them batter the walls he worked so hard to erect without putting up much of a fight. He would have to do better next time. Yet, he wasn't even sure he wanted to try again. The place made him happy, well, as happy as he could remember anyway. He was never exactly a jolly kind of fellow even when things were going well. Still, he had to admit that despite the confusion he was currently feeling over Anna, he couldn't really remember a time when he'd ever been so...calm, or was it peaceful, or maybe secure? He wasn't sure how he felt. He turned to walk back toward the house. Coming here had been a good move for him, he knew. Even with his recent mistakes, he was in a much better place mentally than he'd been in ten years and he could thank most of the people here for that. He just needed to decide what to do about those emotions he'd hadn't expected.

Now that he knew what had been bothering him, he had to decide the best course of action, but he couldn't reach a decision. He couldn't continue to avoid her beyond their shared meals, it was weighing on him too painfully. Remembering how he fled from Anna that morning, he was sure she wondered what had come over him. He'd need to find a way to explain, but for now he was much more concerned at his reaction when he saw her again. Even if he couldn't stop his emotions, he had to keep them buried where they belonged.

Anna was anxious to see Mr. Bates again. He had seemed in an odd mood that morning. He was already in his seat by the time she arrived for dinner, so she chanced a glance at him, finding he looked the same as he always did. Not sure what she expected, she was relieved that everything seemed completely normal. However, when he passed her the salt, it seemed to her his hand was shaking just a tiny bit. Wondering at that, she looked up at him, trying to diagnose the problem. He didn't look directly at her, but offered a weak smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Yes, something was definitely wrong, she decided. Aware of the others in the room, she tried to catch his eye to ask silently, but he appeared to be avoiding her gaze. She pursed her lips, what was going on with him? If she thought about it, she actually felt a little shy and awkward herself. Maybe she should be asking herself that same question.

She wondered again at how things were between them. They had been doing fine, then he suddenly pulled back and she couldn't fathom what caused it. Thinking over the events of the last weeks, she tried very hard to remember if she'd done anything to drive him away. Admittedly, she had been preoccupied by Gwen and Lady Mary, but didn't feel she had done anything in particular to alienate Mr. Bates. She could only think of the look they had shared earlier, but that had occurred only that morning, he had been acting oddly for some time before that. She couldn't really remember the exact moment she started to notice a change in him, only that they were getting along wonderfully before things became so strained between them. She stopped pushing the food around in her bowl and set her jaw. She would solve this problem, she decided, and would begin working on it immediately.

It seemed to be going well in his opinion, feeling he had done a good job hiding the way she appealed to him. He was happy she wouldn't have noticed anything amiss, even if he had trouble controlling his racing thoughts. He wasn't quite ready to meet her eyes yet, but in time he knew he could gain better control of himself. He felt pleased and encouraged that he could hide his thoughts so well from her. If he could just keep their contact to a minimum, perhaps avoid being alone with her it might work. Yes, he could do this, and she would never know how attracted to her he really was.

* * *

It had been over a week since he discarded the limp corrector, since he realized he'd allowed himself to care more for Anna than was proper. Unable to sleep, Mr. Bates sat in the chair in his room with his head in his hands, as he had done almost every night that week. He had made some progress controlling himself around Anna. He'd been able to resume speaking to her when they were thrown together, and he felt confident he could meet her eyes without giving too much away. However, it wasn't enough. He wanted to spend more time with her, talk to her, and sit with her. He was feeling her absence much too keenly. He felt unsettled, out of sorts. He had already made it a point to run into her in the hallways again, even if they hadn't yet resumed meeting downstairs, but he couldn't continue to stalk her in that way. He told himself to avoid her, then found himself immediately looking for her. He almost couldn't trust himself. She had to be wondering what he was up to, pushing her away and pulling her to him at the same time. Yet, recognizing what he was doing and stopping it were two very different things. He needed to find a way to spend time with her without giving away his feelings. He couldn't deny them, but he could control them. Realizing that over the last few years he'd had excellent discipline when he put his mind to it, and it was definitely called for in this case, he figured he just had to find a way to temper his emotions. If it was just an infatuation, perhaps he would get over it soon. It was selfish of him, but if she knew, it would obviously scare her and she might try to get away from him. He definitely didn't want that.

This would be a difficult job. He felt things for her he was sure she wouldn't welcome, but he wasn't willing to avoid her and never speak to her again. It was already killing him and it hadn't even been that long. Perhaps she had finally caught up on her sleep. He hoped so, because he really wanted to go back to the way they were. Would she agree? He just couldn't get her out of his mind, thinking about her all day every day. He needed to do something to ease his mind. An old, crippled, former drunk, married, ex-con after a young, pure, beacon of light would surely disgust everyone involved. He had to be sure no one ever suspected his feelings, especially her. Of course, his main goal would have to be keeping her from ever finding out how he felt about her.

* * *

Anna came awake with a start for the third time that week. She couldn't be sure of the time, but noticed, yet again, it was still dark. She was also very cold, as she had kicked her covers to the floor. However, it was short-lived as the memory came rushing back, causing her to flush and heat up considerably. She'd had another dream, or nightmare perhaps, and she remembered this one. Mr. Bates was in it, but so was everyone else. They were in the servant's hall, and he was smiling and looking at her in that way that he had. She felt mesmerized, caught in his stare like a fish on the hook. She rose as if in a trance and walked directly into his outstretched arms. As she embraced him, he closed his arms around her, and everyone in the hall burst into applause. The clapping sound startled her, causing her to awaken.

She put her hands to her face, and noticed the heat in her cheeks, she was so embarrassed. As she got up to wash her face in the bowl, she prayed he would never find out about this. She would never tell him, she didn't care how close their friendship ever became. She wouldn't ever tell anyone, in fact. Having no idea why these dreams kept occurring, she usually turned her attention to forgetting about them as soon as possible. She could only think of one reason this was happening to her, but she had to know for sure first. She couldn't deal with this now, resolving to go back to sleep and think diligently on it in the morning, Anna settled back down in her bed.

However, as she lay there under her covers, she found sleep difficult because she could not stop thinking about him. Her thoughts a muddled mess, she tried to sleep by clearing her mind, closing her eyes, and regulating her breathing. Anna turned over with a sigh. It was no good, it wasn't working. She considered asking Gwen for advice, but could tell by her friend's slight snores she wouldn't get any help from that quarter until morning. She gave up trying to go back to sleep, but stayed in bed to think, making a mental list of all the things she knew of him for sure. She was positive he was quiet, respectful, non-judgemental, and had an excellent work ethic. He defended others against Thomas and O'Brien, if not himself, which she thought showed loyalty, kindness, and certain fearlessness. He was a war veteran, and obviously very brave to accept such a position in a large house with his injury. He was supportive and clearly had a sense of humour, but had a sensitive side to him.

She turned her thoughts to what she didn't know about him. He wasn't as forthcoming as she would have liked about certain things, but she wasn't sure if that was a virtue or a flaw. Sometimes he didn't finish sentences, and frequently changed the subject right in the middle of a conversation. She wasn't positive if that meant he couldn't hold on to a thought or if he was hiding something, but she guessed it was the latter. He obviously did have secrets. She could tell by the way he cleverly avoided some of her more direct questions while still saying something. She also remembered the look she saw when they were discussing Mr. Carson's secret. Yes, he was definitely hiding something. She wasn't sure what it could be, but she also knew it couldn't be that bad. Lord Grantham, who knew him better than any of the servants, certainly wouldn't have taken him on if Mr. Bates had done anything truly horrible. He certainly had his faults though, she couldn't deny that. He could be old-fashioned, silent, stubborn, and infuriating when he refused to stand up for himself or avoided giving her direct answers. He was also far too guarded, and she wanted to break through his façade.

Then there was the way he made her feel, and this was what she found truly interesting. Why couldn't she control her smile every time she saw him? When she thought about him or he looked at her she noticed that her stomach fluttered, she flushed, and sometimes her heartbeat sped up. Other times she completely lost her train of thought when he got close to her. Sure, she had felt some of these things in her youth, but this couldn't be that. _It wasn't possible, was it? _As the slow smile spread across her lips, Anna let out a laugh. Quickly checking to make sure she hadn't woken Gwen, she threw back her covers and sat up. The room was definitely too warm.

She really liked him, was attracted to him. Why hadn't she noticed before? It all began to make so much sense. She felt an acute relief wash completely over her, giving her a calmness she hadn't felt in what seemed like a month. Smiling earnestly now, she got up and began pacing the room. Now that she knew with certainty what had been affecting her, she turned her attention to what could be done about it. Foremost in her mind was whether he felt the same way, because if she thought he did, she couldn't wait to make her confession to him. It would be wonderful. Did he feel the same way? He must, she thought, remembering how he ran out of the room the day they couldn't stop staring at each other. But, wait. He'd looked sick when he jumped up and took off. If he was attracted to her, it seemed like he would have stayed, maybe said something or at least kept smiling at her. Instead, he ran away from her. Maybe he cared for her but didn't know it yet, but perhaps he wasn't interested at all. Did he suspect how she felt and didn't welcome it, was that why he ran away?

Her initial happiness at her revelation dwindled. If he felt the same way, he would have said or done something to let her know. She was sure of it. As the male, it would be up to him to advance the relationship, she realized with disappointment. If she pressed him, he would think her forward, and that wouldn't be good. It was unfortunate, she thought with a sigh, but that's the way it was. Still, that didn't mean there weren't things she could do. She also realized it wouldn't exactly be welcome among the staff or family. It wasn't the kind of thing that they encouraged, quite the opposite, it was actively discouraged. Well, she didn't care about that. When she thought of him, her heart swelled and filled her with something she couldn't define, something like air and sunshine brightening her. No, she couldn't deny it. As long as it took her to realize the truth, now that she knew, she was sure of how she felt. Even though there was a very real possibility he didn't feel the same way, she couldn't entertain that thought. It would be too painful. She would just have to find a way to let him know without appearing like she was trying to let him know, even if she didn't have much experience in this area. She would need to figure out what to do, Anna decided as she settled back under her covers. Of course, her first goal would have to be finding out how he felt about her.

* * *

She was never going to find out how he felt. She had tried to chase him down, to corner him and get an idea of his feelings, but it never worked out quite like she wanted. They ran into each other an awful lot in the hallways, so much in fact, it was almost like he was seeking her out. Yet, when she tried to gauge his feelings toward her, he seemed to run in the other direction. It was infuriating. Well, she wasn't going to let him get away with it. Anna didn't think she was brave enough to just confess her attraction to him, it would be too embarrassing, especially if he didn't feel the same way. She'd have to find a way to test him without actually saying anything and to get her answer if it killed her.

They still walked to and from church together, a step behind everyone else, but together nonetheless. However, he continued to seem oddly distant to her, always seeming like he had something weighing heavily on him. Since she'd realized how much she actually liked him, she had surprisingly slept very well. Long since caught up on her sleep, she really wanted to resume meeting with him downstairs at night. Yet, at the same time she wanted to guard herself against the disappointment that he wasn't interested in her. It didn't matter overly much, since she wanted to continue to be his friend whether he returned her romantic feelings or not. It would be difficult, but the reasons he attracted her wouldn't just go away if he didn't return her affection. She still valued him even if they could only ever be friends. However, at the moment, she wasn't sure he even wanted that much with her. He was saying even less than normal and she began to fear he didn't want to spend any time with her anymore, which filled her with disappointment. In fact, he seemed like he didn't want to spend time with anyone anymore.

Feeling mischievous, she resolved to proceed with her plan to test him. As they walked next to each other to church in silence, she would increase their usual pace a tiny bit, even though she usually let him determine their speed. If he fell back, she reasoned, it would mean he wanted to get away from her, but if he kept up, she would be convinced she was imagining things. Putting her plan into motion, she increased her pace, but not too much, because she didn't want to seem like she was running from him. Her heart leapt when she noticed that not only did he keep up with her, but he glanced at her a lot more, even if he still wasn't talking very much. Unfortunately, she also noticed the sweat on his brow and the pain in his face. Feeling awful for doing something that she now realized could hurt him. She slowed down, feeling satisfied, if a little guilty at her childish game, that she had her answer. Smiling happily, she imperceptibly walked closer to him, closing the distance a minuscule amount. Afraid to give away her intentions, she refrained from looking directly at him, but wished yet again she had more experience at this sort of thing. She thought she detected an answering smile from him, but she couldn't be sure since she was using only her peripheral vision. She liked the way being closer to him made her feel though, so she resolved to test the boundaries further at her next opportunity.

He wondered what she was doing. He was walking alongside her in companionable silence, minding his own business by dwelling on his leg pain, when she decided to run a race. He increased his pace because his blood had gone colder and colder the further away from him she got. He could not allow that, it was unbearable not to walk next to her at every available opportunity. He was paying for it though and wished she had played this little game before he'd used the corrector. Even though he had gotten rid of it, his leg had still not yet healed from the trauma he'd dealt it. She was going to kill him if she kept this up, so he resolved to say something, but she slowed just as he was about to open his mouth. It didn't take long to notice she was walking closer to him either. He liked it and he would tell her so as soon as he could start breathing again. Who was he kidding? He couldn't say anything like that to her any more than he could stop himself from smiling stupidly when she was so close to him.

* * *

Anna and Gwen were finishing up in Lady Sybil's bedroom. It had taken much longer than usual because, at least in Gwen's opinion, she was cleaning the room by herself. Oh Anna was physically there, but she wasn't helping. In fact, she was slowing them down, even if she didn't realize it. When they first arrived to the room, Anna stripped the dirty sheets from the bed, rolled them up, and placed them in the stack for laundering. Gwen spread out the clean sheet, but before she could begin tucking in the corner, Anna came back and stripped the new sheet, rolled it up and put it in the laundry pile. Gwen stared, but thinking there was something wrong with the new sheet, she didn't say anything. She grabbed a new one and threw it on the bed, when Anna came back to scoop it up and add it to the laundry.

"Anna!" Gwen yelled, startling Anna so much she dropped the sheet she was holding.

"What are you doing?" Gwen asked with a laugh.

Anna seemed truly confused. "I'm changing the sheets. What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Well, how many times are we going to change the same ones?" Gwen queried, pointing to the now high laundry stack.

"Where did they come from?" Anna questioned, startled by the high pile of sheets.

"Honestly, what's wrong with you?" asked Gwen.

Anna looked surprised, "nothing, why would you think something is wrong?"

Gwen smiled. "Really? Then whose room are we in?

Taking Gwen's point, Anna had to look around before answering. "Lady Sybil's room," she replied, grinning sheepishly.

Gwen sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed with a smile, suspecting she knew exactly what was wrong with Anna, even if her friend didn't want to admit it.

"Fine, I may have some things on my mind," she told Gwen, dropping down next to her on the bed.

They had been friends a long time. Gwen knew if Anna wanted her advice she would ask for it. All she could do was offer to be there in support, but she was afraid Anna couldn't see what was happening. Well, Gwen thought, she wouldn't be the one to tell her.

Anna decided she'd had enough. Was he interested in her or not? Why couldn't she get a proper inkling of how he felt about her? This behaviour was ridiculous, and it would not continue. Everything was going just fine in her life, but now things had become too complicated. Well, no more. As soon as they finished this room, it would be near tea time, and she was going to find Mr. Bates and tell him exactly what was on her mind.

They ran into each other, literally, on the servant's staircase second floor landing. Running up the stairs as he was coming down, she careened directly into his solid form, teetering backward dangerously. Dropping his cane immediately, he reached out to steady her before she could tumble down the stairs. Holding onto her shoulders, once she was stable, he told himself to let go. His hands refused his command. She obviously had a captive audience, and could not be more pleased. She liked the way his grip felt on her, strong and warm, but with a gentle hold. Still, they probably didn't want to be discovered standing there that way.

"Thank you, Mr. Bates," she smiled at him, raising her eyebrows.

He shook his head to clear it, then slowly dropped his hands and his eyes, "yes, well..." He cleared his throat as he bent down for his stick, buying some time to compose himself.

"Where are you going in such a hurry?" he asked in order to change the subject.

"To find you," she let him know.

It was his turn to raise his eyebrows back to her, "me?" he asked, intrigued.

"Yes," she said, putting her hands on her hips. She was determined. "We will be meeting downstairs tonight after the staff is released for the evening just like we used to do." He opened his mouth to reply, but she rushed on before he could interrupt, "you look much better rested than before, and I need to talk to you."

He nodded. "Very well," he told her with a smile, "it would be my pleasure." He couldn't refuse her, didn't know how.

She nodded once in satisfaction, then spun on her heel to go back downstairs, "c'mon then, it's time for tea," she told him as she started down the stairs. He stood, watching her go, but she paused and looked back over her shoulder at him. He rushed to her side, and they continued to the servant's hall, walking together at his pace.

Taking his seat, he stole a glance at her, wondering what she wanted to talk to him about. She did look more rested to him and she definitely seemed happy, so he didn't think it could be that bad. Seeing her smile so much somehow affected him too. Very pleased with that development, he hoped tonight wouldn't be a one off and they could resume their nightly meetings. He felt good when he was with her and he needed to get that feeling back, he was too uncomfortable otherwise, it was time.


End file.
